At the End of the Day
by Hard To Scare
Summary: Bedia Hartley and her daughter Thea have been on the road since the Outbreak began, three years ago, still mourning her husband. She meets the she meets the Atlanta Survivor's group at the prison and finds something she never thought she'd feel again. It's the Apocolypse, but love is still there. At the end of the day, does anything but love matter? Co-Author: wheatieflakes, Rick/O


_**Hi guys! I have returned from teh dead! I don't own anything you recognize, wheatieflakes and I only own Bead and Thea, paws off. . .enjoy!**_

It's not like I didn't see this coming. I mean, a person can only stay safe in the woods from Walkers for so long. And this isn't even about me. It's about Thea, my child. There is nothing else more important to me than my daughter.

I walk with her next to me. We have to keep moving around the woods. I am exhausted, and my bow and arrows are digging into my skin. They seem like they weigh a thousand times more than they actually do. I really wish that my car hadn't been set on fire.

God, I really wish.

XX

And so we trudge. I walk in the woods, blood all over my clothes from past walkers, my daughter on my back, holding my bow and arrows, as well as all of our supplies stuffed in a backpack, which, at this point, wasn't full. I wasn't paying much attention to anything except the ground in front of me when I hear:

"Mom! Mom, help him!" Thea screams at me frantically. She comes first. She has to come first.

Don't do it, Thea, don't do it, I think as frantically as she screams. Ignore the man getting swarmed, you can do it. Okay, there's a man getting swarmed. Don't do it Bead. Don't do it.

Damn.

"Stay behind this tree. If anything comes at you, run like hell, you understand me?" my child nods, seeming panicked. She's like her dad: can't not help someone.

I pull out my bow and nock it with an arrow, aiming and firing. The homemade arrows fly through the air at a remarkable speed, making me smirk just a tiny bit to myself. I've still got it. My arrow embeds itself in a biter's head going for Mr. Idiot who was wandering outside the gate. I mean, when you have yourself a prison, the only reason to go outside is when you lose your mind.

I came in strong. I get most of the enemy away from the lunatic when one of the biters goes for my ankle and trips me back. I like this position. It's like he sets me so I can be looking at the sky when I die. I let out a small scream as I prepare to go. What else can I do? With my bow outside this swarm, I am definitely screwed. A large feeling of deja-vu comes and kicks me in the gut as a smaller metal arrow got a biter right in the forehead, killing it. I breathe a sigh of relief: the biter was now dead. No, it was actually dead. Its dead arm lets go of mine. Getting the leverage I need, I scramble to my bow, lodging it in one's eye. I kick up my feet to get them away from me. I receive a hand up from a mysterious arm, pulling me from the biters grasp. The hand hits the biter's head with the butt of his gun… not exactly efficient, but he gets points for creativity and effort. I have to admit that I am happy to see this guy look gradually less and less like a scared animal and more like an extremely stressed human.

Yay.

He pulls me up next to him as we are both slowly cornered by the swarm. We are joined by two more: me and one with a crossbow. I couldn't help but smirk at his weakness. Ha, a crossbow.

When all the walkers are beaten back finally my child came to me. "Mom! Mom!" I whirl my now-undone ponytail to see my daughter Thea hauling ass to my position and launching herself headfirst into my arms, tiny heart pounding hard. A tsunami wave of relief washes over me as I hold my child. The three men stare at me, but it's not like I care.

My reunion with the most important person in my life is cut short by car wheels screaming against pavement, engine blaring, not caring what's in front of it. All the people outside the gate turn toward the sound of a large orange truck running into their front gate, not stopping for anything. The wheels squealed against the dusty ground, bringing the truck to a halt. The back doors opened, letting loosest least 50 of the most ugly things I had ever seen. Walkers.

Turning my head over to where the truck came from, I see a sight I had thought I would never see again. Someone from my old life: I had known him 6 years prior to this whole outbreak. I had looked after his daughter, I had eaten with this man and his family.

It was my old neighbor: Phillip. He has gauze covering one eye, watching the chaos ensue on this jail. I can't help but stare as I see a dead man walk and get into a car to drive down the dusty road, the dust swirling in the air on the hot day.

XX

Now that seemingly evil neighbors are on the road back to who-knows-what, I guess that I am the most pressing matter at hand. The idiot looks like he is about to speak, but I cut him off "Look, I was just passing through." I tried to say gruffly. He looks at me, eyes seeming less dull than before, maybe more blue?

What do I even mean, gosh, keep it together, Bead.

"Thank you… for helping me I mean."

"Sure thing." Yeah, I guess. "Look we could use another archer around here, I mean um…" he says, looking at my daughter, who was talking with the crossbow guy – internally, I scoff. I mean, a guy with a crossbow? – and he notices she seems relatively happy here. I notice as well. She is, in the few minutes we've been talking, making a new friend as the one-handed man looked idly back.

My daughter is my life. I have to put her first. What we have right now isn't a life, I realize. She can't grow up on the road. She can't learn on the road, and she can't start a life on the road. What kind of existence is that?

"Understand one thing. My daughter is my world, and if she's even remotely at risk here and I can't fix it? We are long gone. Alright?"

"Understood ma'am," he drawls in a distinctly southern accent. I'm from New York, but I still think that the Southern Gentleman act has an angle. I didn't see it then, but for the first time ever, there was no angle.

Blue-eyes sticks out his hand, "Rick Grimes, and that's Daryl and Merle." I hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. I'm a cautious person by nature and I have no idea what I was getting myself into. "My name's Bedia Hartley, this is my daughter Althea. Thea for short." I try to hide my accent, a strange blend of New Yorker and Turkish. The blue eyed man and I stand there for a few moments awkwardly.

Why am I telling this strange man I met _minutes _ago all of this information? In a world like this everyone has an angle.

"Hey. Um. . . nice bow work out there."

Wow, someone noticed? "Um. . . thank you?" I nervously play with my hair, a tell that I'm desperately trying to break. Dammit! Be cool Bead! I remove my hand slowly.

But he smiles, not doing anything odd with the information. All of a sudden I'm taken from my thought process. Thank GOD, it wasn't good where that was going. "I've got to go, Rick. It was nice talking to you." I walk off. For the first time in a long time, it was nice talking to someone. I walk up to Thea and see she's found some coloring books. No doubt a welcoming gift from Rick's son, Carl. I sit down to color with her. But I can't help but internally curse. Because truly? Rick was freaking hot. How come I didn't notice he had no shirt on? Shake it off, guys that attractive are always spoken for, his hotness is . . . Not coloring book material. Not the 3+ versions anyway.

* * *

**_Next time. . . _**

"Michonne, you crazy bitch! Give me a hug!" I shout. A familiar face plus heatstroke… hey, what can I say.

Michonne cracks a slight smile, something that, for her, is a miracle. We embrace.

Even Thea remembers her and immediately runs over to beg her to play with her. She always had a soft spot for children – not that she'd admit it, of course.

"Michonne!" Thea beams. The light of my life grabs Michonne's calloused hands in her slightly chubby ones – thank goodness for that, I'd never forgive myself if I couldn't give her food – and leads her off to color.

That girl certainly has an artistic streak. I'm sure if this apocalypse didn't happen, there would be paintings from her everywhere.

_**I hope y'all liked that, it was super fun to write. This is co-written with mah very good friend wheatieflakes, she's absolutley stupendous! Vote if we should continue. XOXO- Eva, Lil**_


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